


Got A Bite?

by ScribbledGhost



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: F/M, Fishing, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbledGhost/pseuds/ScribbledGhost
Summary: Frankie takes you fishing.
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You





	Got A Bite?

How Frankie had managed to convince you to be awake at the crack of dawn on a Saturday, you’d never know.

He’d asked you to go fishing with him, and you’d willingly agreed, though yo warned him that you didn’t know the first thing about fishing in the first place. He’d assured you that he’d teach you, and that it would be a fun experience for the two of you.

So there you found yourself, standing out on a quiet dock at 6am, watching the sun rise as he carried his tacklebox and fishing poles to you. 

“Remind me why we need to be here this early, Frankie?” you grumped good-naturedly.

“Every good fisher knows the fish are more active in the early mornin’ hours,” he said, setting down his supplies next to you. “Look on the bright side, junebug, at least I’m not taking you catfish noodling.”

“Catfish wh-? Isn’t that the thing where you shove your arm in muddy water and wait for a catfish to try and bite it off?” you asked.

“Sure is. You basically just use your whole forearm as bait,” Frankie said, kneeling down to get both fishing rods prepared for use.

“Is…. is that how you got your nickname?” you ventured, wondering if you really wanted to hear the answer.

“Oh no,” Frankie responded, “that was a… that was a different thing.”

“I’m not gonna ask.”

“Better not to.”

Frankie stood back up, handing you a fishing rod. His own was still left laying on the dock, and you held yours with slight unease, with Frankie appeared to immediately sense. 

“Here,” he said, gently pushing your shoulders to help you, “turn around. I’ll show you.”

You did as he asked, and his arms wrapped around you so he could hold your hands in his from behind. He maneuvered the fishing rod so you were holding it properly, then walked you through the process of casting the line. His head came to rest on your shoulder, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your ear, a stark contrast between that and the cool morning air that caused you to shiver.

Once his lesson was over, he helped you pull the rod back and cast the line, flinging it towards the center of the lake. After it had settled, he gave your cheek a quick kiss, then moved to grab his own fishing rod to cast his own line.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment before you sat on the dock, dipping your bare feet into the cool water beneath. Frankie soon followed suit, and you realized that he had forgotten to teach you a crucial element of fishing.

“Hey Frankie?” You asked, “How do I know when to reel in the line?”

“Well,” he started, “when you start gettin’ a bite, your bobber will dip a little. But when it goes completely underwater, that’s when you’re gonna wanna reel it in.”

You nodded your head, pretending to understand anything he’d just said. You leaned onto him slightly, tipping your head onto his shoulder. Frankie turned and kissed the crown of your head, and as you sat in the peaceful silence with him, you started to see the appeal of the activity. The early morning mist that had settled on the lake surface slowly began to lift with the sun, and brilliant rays of light began to reflect off of the still water’s surface. 

Just as you thought you would sit and stare at the still lake for the rest of the day, your bobber began to twitch. Frankie perked next to you, encouraging you to keep an eye on it. True to what Frankie had said earlier, after a few distinct wiggles, the bobber dipped below the water, and your line pulled taut. You attempted to reel in your line, trying to remember what Frankie had told you about not reeling it in too quickly. You registered Frankie talking quickly next to you, and you smiled as you pulled in your catch at how excited he had gotten.

Out of the water came a decent sized fish, of what breed you had no idea. You pulled it to you, and when you managed to have it close, Frankie pulled out his phone, requesting a picture of you holding it.

“You’re nuts if you think I’m not getting a picture of your first fish,” he said lightly as he put his phone away again. He helped you unhook the thrashing fish before you sat it back in the water to let it swim away again. 

“See?” he said, pulling you in to kiss your cheek, “Told ya you’d be good at this, junebug.”

“Sure, whatever you say, Frankie,” you laughed, tossing your line back into the water.

“I mean it!” he said, “One day we’ll have to go camping somewhere and really rough it. Sleep in tents, catch fish for dinner, the whole nine yards.”

“I’d like that,” you said, leaning on him again, “It’ll be nice to get away for a little bit with my favorite guy.”

You could have sworn you felt the heat creep into Frankie’s face as you leaned against him. No matter how long you two had been together, he still always seemed to get flustered whenever you’d compliment him. 

Suddenly Frankie’s own bobber began to twitch, and you sat up straight as it dipped below the water’s surface and Frankie began to reel it in. He seemed to have a much easier time than you’d had, and initially you chalked it up to him being more experienced.

That is, until he pulled his catch out of the water to find it was one of the smallest fish you’d ever seen outside of a pet store.

You found yourself unable to keep from laughing at Frankie’s cross expression, and you quickly took out your phone to take a picture of the scene before he could release the fish out of embarrassment.

“So about that whole “catching fish for dinner” thing…” you teased.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll have _you_ do that part,” Frankie joked as he released his tiny catch back into the lake.


End file.
